


Catching Feelings

by corypheshits (dracoargentum)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, Past Female Sole Survivor/Male Sole Survivor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoargentum/pseuds/corypheshits
Summary: Clara Kennedy's never been one for emotions. She's a scholar, a scientist - has dealt in cold, hard facts all her life. Things with Curie are different, though. It's been a while, but she might be catching feelings, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This'll probably end up being a couple short 'chapters,' which will basically be little snippets. Don't really know where I'm going with it, though, so let's figure it out.
> 
> Also the summary is shit. Sorry about that.

The first time was a fluke.

That’s what she told herself, anyway. 

They’d been running together for quite some time when it happened. Just left Goodneighbor and the good Doctor Amari not long before, and Curie was still getting used to the whole ‘body’ thing. Clara had to admit that she was having trouble getting used to it, too. 

She’d seen synths before, of course. Considered Nick Valentine a good enough friend, and had killed enough Gen 1s to gain some level of understanding. Liked to pick ‘em apart after they were dead. See what made them tick. 

Thing was, those guys were machines. Though she liked Nick, he definitely wasn't human. His eyes glowed and one of his hands was pure metal framework. She’d even had to tinker with his circuits a few times when things got funky.

Curie, though? Something else entirely. Clara wasn’t quite sure how the Institute had managed to make their ‘bots look like… well, that. She understood the horror stories, now. You couldn’t tell a synth from Adam, if you didn’t know what to look for. Would probably take a bit even if you did. 

It was vastly different from her old body, that’s for damn sure. Again, Clara had spent some time tinkering on her, and she knew the way things worked. Wasn’t that much different from Codsworth, really. But like Curie, the blonde found herself worried, now. 

What would happen if she was injured in the middle of a fight? 

She wasn’t just parts now. She was flesh and hair and things that weren’t so easily replaced. 

Despite everything, though, the Vaultie couldn’t show her worries. She was stone-faced as ever, heading out into the ruins of Boston. 

Still hated to see the world like this. The city had always been chaotic, but it was different, now. Too quiet. She missed the bustle. 

But that didn’t matter. She and Curie had just polished off two supermutants when she turned and found the other woman bleeding. Strange to think of her as a woman, but she pushed that thought aside. 

She tried to make a move for her pack, rifling through in search of Stimpacks or bandages or, well, anything. Tried to be subtle about it, too, in case Curie freaked out. 

Despite her new body, though, the woman’s senses were sharper than a normal human’s. She glanced over her shoulder at just the right time, caught Clara red-handed. 

“Madame? What are you doing?” she asked, her dark eyes going wide. Clara shivered, hearing the familiar voice from an unfamiliar form.

“It’s nothing, Curie. Just noticed a little wound. Need to patch you up.” 

Startled, the synth glanced down at her own form, saw the blood-soaked spot on her flannel. 

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, poking it with her finger. It came away stained red. 

“Just hold still.” 

Moving forward, bandage in hand, Clara yanked up the sleeve of the other woman’s shirt. The wound wasn’t as bad as she thought. Probably just got nicked by a bullet, but it still needed attention. 

She handed Curie the bandage, holding up a hand so she’d know not to move, and grabbed a Stimpack out of her pocket. Lucky the thing hadn’t stabbed her, really.

Instead, she stabbed Curie. 

The woman yelped, her eyes shut tight as the needle went into her arm. Clara wondered, vaguely, if this was the first time she’d felt pain.

“Don’t worry,” she found herself saying, her voice soft despite its general huskiness. “Just a little thing. You’re gonna be fine.” 

She grabbed the bandage out of the woman’s hand, and went about wrapping the wound. Got to the point where the blood didn’t even soak through, which was good. Meant it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, after all.

“Th-thank you, Madame.” 

She was blushing, for some reason, and that made Clara’s insides twist. Couldn’t figure out if that was good or bad. 

“Clara,” she mumbled, fighting the urge to act on her strange feelings. 

Curie smiled, and the twisting intensified. Her knees began to weaken. 

“Thank you, Clara.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some talk of the past. And food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am literally making things up as I go along. 
> 
> Thanks to those who left kudos on the last chapter! I really appreciate it. :)

The second time? A little harder to brush off.

Not to say she didn’t try.

They’d made their way back to Red Rocket Station, hoping to cool their heels before heading out again. Clara was glad to be there, really. Probably her favorite place to rest her head in this ass-backward Wasteland. 

There were others, of course, but they weren’t right. Always had some kind of issue, like the people in Sanctuary or the distance of the Coastal Cottage. Red Rocket was close and quiet, with no one to bother her - though not far enough that she would be alone if she needed help.

Needless to say, she liked it there. 

She’d spruced it up pretty nice. A couple of beds – though not too many, 'less her companions got the idea they were welcome to stay – and some furniture, tables and shelves she’d pieced together with the scrap she collected on her journeys. Even had a terminal, which took a hell of a lot of tinkering but made her feel more at ease, once she finally got it set up. The chemistry station was nice, too. 

She and Curie had been sitting on one of the couches – a little worn, but not too bad, considering the circumstances. Clara had a small Mr. Handy model in her hands, fiddling with it while the other woman nursed an ice-cold Nuka Cola. They were both pretty glad to have the fridge up and running. 

“Even this is strange,” the brunette suddenly murmured, swallowing the soda in her mouth. She liked to take her time with it, Clara noticed. Swirl it around on her tongue before letting it go down. 

“Whatcha mean?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know. Her eyebrows had gone all scrunched together, but she hadn’t stopped tinkering – hadn’t even looked up. 

“Drinking. Eating. I’d never really thought of it as anything other than fuel for the human body.” 

Clara chuckled, then, finally setting her toy down on the coffee table in front of them. She grabbed the bottle out of the other woman’s hand, took a swig. It was good, but she’d never been one for soda pop, in general. Always preferred iced tea or coffee, herself. 

“Shame you missed out on pre-war food,” she mumbled, smiling to herself. Normally, she didn’t really like to think of that stuff. But she could still remember sitting in the kitchen with mother, homemade empanadas cooling on the counter in front of her. The older woman only brought them out for special occasions – birthdays, graduations, pretty much any kind of celebration.

She tried to teach Clara to make them. More than once. Never really got over the fact that her daughter couldn’t cook, no matter how they tried. 

She thought of Nate, then. The first few months of marriage, when he tried to teach her – and himself – how to cook. Couldn’t keep eating pizza, he’d told her, to which she responded by whining and stamping her feet.

In her mind, she still sees him as he was back then. Arms full of grocery bags, a huge grin spread across his face. He’d been so excited – loved trying new things with her, getting her out of her shell. Part of what made them a good couple, for a while. Part of what she loved about him. 

The food didn’t even come out right, in the end. It was burnt around the edges, the middle not done enough. But, somehow, they scarfed it down like it was their last meal. Nate had laughed at the faces she made, stuffing his own, and it was one of the few times she remembered feeling really, truly happy. Butterflies in the stomach, light-headed, stupid in love. 

Curie’s cleared her throat, then, a concerned expression on her face. Made Clara realize how pitiful she must have looked, staring dead-eyed at the bottle in front of her. 

The past didn’t matter now. Nate was dead. Shaun was gone. Nothing would ever be the same. 

“Sorry,” she found herself muttering, passing the Nuka Cola back to the woman beside her. 

“Did I say something wrong, Ma – Clara?” 

The blonde glanced up, eyebrows raised. Her green eyes welled up with tears. Why did things have to be like this? Curie’s too good for her. Probably would have been too good for her even before everything – Nate, the war. But part of her wonders if they could have had something, had they met back then. If they could still have something now. 

The brunette had her mouth slightly agape, now, and Clara had to hold herself back. She couldn’t do this. Not now, not after everything.

Her voice came out low and croaky. Like she hadn’t used it in years. A lump lodged itself in her throat.

“Nah. It’s nothing.”


End file.
